


honey, can you feel the tide?

by houseofskywalker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Brief mention of slavery, F/M, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Planet Naboo (Star Wars), Romance, Sensuality, brief reference to child death but nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 07:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houseofskywalker/pseuds/houseofskywalker
Summary: Anakin hates sand, and Padmé aims to change that. One thing leads to another ...





	honey, can you feel the tide?

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm a hopeless romantic, and there's so many ways this scene could have gone. This is just one of them.

“We used to come here for school retreat. We would swim to that island every day. I love the water. We used to lie out on the sand and let the sun dry us and try to guess the names of the birds singing ...”

Anakin stared in the distance. He could still hear the soothing music of the waterfalls slapping against the river stones, and briefly closed his eyes in contentment. The image Padmé described took shape in his mind: spontaneos trips to the beach, splashing with friends in the water, burrowing your toes in the hot sand—

Unbidden, memories of Tatooine surfaced. He twisted his mouth in distaste.

“I hate sand,” he muttered.

Padmé shuffled closer to him. The warmth of her skin burned through his robe where their arms touched. “Why?” she asked, incredulous. “ _Beaches_ have sand. Isn’t it lovely to stretch out on the sand and enjoy the sun?”

“We don’t have beaches,” snorts Anakin. “On Tatooine, I mean. You remember, don’t you? The sands of Tatooine are so rough and irritating. It gets everywhere.” It would get in his clothes which maman would have to wash twice a day, huffing as she toiled with the washing rack; in his eyes, making it hard for him to work, giving Wattoo an incentive to berate him.

Padmé bit her cheek in thought. “It can't be that bad. It’s just sand.”

“No. It’s not _just_ sand.” Anakin swallowed, remembering one particular incident. “When I was younger, maybe six, maybe seven, my friends and I wandered out too far, probably miles away from our colony. One of them was a small girl, Khadijah. She was the oldest in her family, so she was kind of the breadwinner, you know? I don’t remember how, but at one point, she fell in quicksand. We tried so hard to get her out, but—” He took a shuddering breath. Padmé grabbed his forearm, her long fingers splayed over his sleeve, grounding him in the moment. Anakin gave her a grateful smile and continued, “They gave up. But I refused. I waited for her to get up again. Khadijah was small but she was strong! She would climb out. I knew she would.

“I waited the whole night. When morning dawned, mother finally found me. She convinced me to come home.”

Anakin looked down at his feet, unable to meet her eyes, and hid his hands inside his sleeves. Padmé’s hand fell awkwardly to her side. There was a wrinkle of worry between her eyebrows. “Ani, I’m so sorry. That… no one deserves such a fate. Poor girl …”

He nodded curtly. They were quiet for sometime. Padmé played with the light fabric floating down her arms, while Anakin cursed himself for ruining the mood. They were enjoying themselves! He just _had_ to go on and on about his issues. But he couldn’t help it. One look at Padmé’s face, so open, so _honest_ , and all his secrets came pouring out. She wasn’t like Obi-Wan. He could tell her anything.

“You know,” began Padmé, her voice airy, “not all sand is the same. We don’t have quicksand here on Naboo.”

“Oh?”

A hesitant smile bloomed on her face. He almost missed what she said next, too distracted by the lovely dimples in her cheeks. “You’re right, Tatooine sand is horrendous. But the sand _here_ …” She rocked on the balls of her feet, caught in a pleasant memory. “It’s white, and fine, and runs down your fingers like water when you cup it in your hands. And when you come out of the ocean, it sticks to your skin, exfoliating it. Free skincare!”

“Is that why your skin looks so smooth?” he blurted out. His eyes widened, mortified. “I mean, uh …"

“Yes," said Padmé easily. “Like I said, not all sand is the same.”

“Senator, are you trying to make me like _sand_?” He shook his head, baffled. “It won’t work.” 

Her eyes grew mischievous. “You’re right. Not like this. Maybe I should show you …”

“Huh?"

She broke into a run, darting down the stairs. Anakin shot after her. “Senator, wait up! Where are you going?”

He only got laughter in response. Anakin followed the floating zoom of her ethereal dress as she ran past the dock and around the lake house. He had no clue where they were going, but he trusted Padmé.

At last, she stopped by a private pier. Padmé jumped off and landed on the small beach, curling her toes in the glittering sand. She tilted her head back and slowly undid the pins and bars holding up her nigh-impossible hairdo. Brown curls flowed down her back like the waterfalls they had just visited.  Anakin was struck by the sight. How could someone be so beautiful?

She turned slightly, and called,“You coming?”

Anakin shook his head, willing away the lovelorn mist in his mind. He climbed down after her. “Senator—Padmé, why exactly are we here?”

She finally looked at him. Well, _down_ at him. With Anakin standing on a slightly lower hill than her, she had gained some height. He felt slightly out of his element. And at her mercy.  Her lips curled into a smirk. “Take off your boots, Ani. And _feel_.”

“Padmé …"

“Trust me.”

He did.

Anakin shook them off, and tentatively dug his toes in the sand. He didn’t feel it at first—unlike Tatooine sand, which would’ve chafed his feet raw by now, Varykino sand flowed over his skin like ... well, like water. He met Padmé’s expectant eyes. “’S nice.”

She crossed her arms, triumphant. “Told you so.”

“You sure did.” He had half a mind to sit down and enjoy the sun. Naboo’s star gave off a pleasantly warm glow, unlike those scorching pair of demons on Tatooine. But before he could suggest setting up camp for a minute, Padmé was ... taking off her dress? Anakin’s cheeks heated up. “P-Padmé …?"

“A Senator is always prepared.” She clicked off the bands around her arms which held her dress up, and let the precious material pool around her feet. Anakin was somewhat relieved—and disappointed—to find out that she wore an one-piece swimsuit underneath. The halter neck had been part of it. _Clever_.

Padmé clapped her hands excitedly. “Let's go swimming!”

“I’m not a great swimmer.”

“But you _can_ swim, right? Come on, Ani. It’s hot and I’m bored. I’m going in whether you like it or not, and as my bodyguard, aren’t you supposed to follow me around?”

“Unfair,” muttered Anakin, but undressed down to his trousers anyway. He was a little shy to be shirtless in front of Padmé, but if she had no problem running around with bare legs around him, he shouldn’t either, right?

Anakin neatly folded his clothes and put them down on the sand. He hoped it wouldn’t get into the crevices of his robe. His companion had no such concern: she bounded down the beach, leaving the discarded mess of her dress behind in favour of the aquamarine waters of Varykino. He ran after her with a carefree laugh, savouring the exact moment when his legs broke through the tide. Cool water splashed against his body. He was surprised to still feel sand under his feet. 

Padmé was swimming already, and had come up for a breath by the time he waded to her. He admired how the starlight made her cinnamon skin glow even more, as if she shone from deep within. 

She probably did. Angels were beacons of light, after all. 

On the drifting sand, their heights had returned to normal, with Padmé being eye level with his chin as she neared Anakin. He swallowed, trying to ignore the fact that if she tipped her head up _just_ a little, they would be kissing.  “Careful,” she murmured, but the spark in her eyes advised anything but caution. “The sand here is tricky. It goes and comes with the tide.”

He found it quite solid under his feet. Compared to the rest of his body anyway, which was floating with Padmé’s close proximity. “What controls the tide?”

“The moon. You can’t see it, but it’s there.”

Anakin dared to brush his hands down her arms, watching her expression carefully for any resistance. But Padmé only waded closer at his touch.  Their torsos pressed together. Her heart beat in tandem with his. “There’s a lot of stuff you can’t see even though it’s there,” said Anakin, breathless. “The sand under your feet, the moon—”

“It comes out at night.” Her voice was smooth like honey. But he felt her cool, quickened breaths fanning against his face, betraying her similarly inflamed feelings. She couldn’t deny them anymore.

“I can’t wait that long,” said Anakin, ardent with longing. _Release me, I beg—_

Padmé watched him for a long moment, her impossibly dark eyes darting around his face, taking in every feature. Then she leaned up, and closed their distance at last. 

His heart leapt. He tasted the sea salt on her lips as they kissed, the flakes deliciously rough on his tongue as his hands roamed her smooth skin. Padmé didn’t hold back—she pushed against him, leading the kiss, taking from him what she wanted, and he gave it to her gladly. 

She’d been wanting, just like him.

Suddenly, the tide drew back, pulling the sand with it. The ground beneath their feet drifted and Padmé yelped, losing her footing. Fortunately, Anakin held onto her hips and hoisted her legs up around his waist. 

“Careful,” said Anakin, his eyes dancing with mirth. “The sand here is tricky.”

Padmé laughed and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment, kudo, bookmark! It keeps me going. Thanks for reading!


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